


Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of (His And Mine Are The Same)

by whiteblankpage



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Build, Soulmates, post- season two
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-22
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-19 07:28:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/570730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiteblankpage/pseuds/whiteblankpage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hey, buddy. You gotta calm your heart rate down, remember? Breathe, man. Breathing’s good. Find your center. Hum Kumbaya. Get a hold of yourself, Scott.”</p><p>Nails still too sharp to be safe, Scott reached up, fingers twisting into the dangling hoodie strings and tugged. Stiles hissed in warning, one hand wrapped firmly around Scott’s wrist. </p><p>It was a grounding touch, between those worn strings and the callous press of Stiles’s thumb against his pulse the heavy vice around Scott’s ribs let go and he breathed. </p><p>The others watched with wary hope as he straightened in his seat, his hairline edged with cold sweat. </p><p>Stiles gave his shoulder one last awkward pat before he peeled his fingers off of Scott’s hand and said, “So, I’m going to take a guess that we’ve got a problem here.”<br/>-------------<br/>Or Scott and Allison permanently end things which causes Scott to lose his only anchor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There's going to be a lot of little time jumps here, along with repeated soulmate imagery because I just research shit all the time and like to put it into my fics even if I'm the only person who sees it. So repeated phrases are intentional. 
> 
> Also, the tarot card reading is completely subjective. I've had a reading before and the lady was wonderful in explaining that she didn't really know minute details of what was happening in my life because her job was to give me the knowledge and tools to guide myself to the outcome I wanted. So I took a bit of creative liberty with Mrs. Morell's reading, even if the meanings of the cards and the spread she used is not mine.

Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of 

(His and Mine Are The Same)

 

_Scott McCall had moved to Beacon Hills a week before Valentine’s Day, wheezing harmlessly out at the rest of the fifth graders, his knuckles white around the straps of his Batman backpack as the teacher introduced him._

_The only seat left in the whole classroom was almost at the back, right next to a pale kid with really short hair. He’d smiled wide at Scott, eyes bright as they took in the fading, peeling decal on the front of his shirt._

_Scott grinned back just as someone- he’d bet his best Transformer on it being the smirky blond guy near the front- kicked their foot out at his ankles and sent him crashing to the floor._

_The entire class exploded into the loud burst of harsh laughter, even as someone hauled Scott to his feet and began patting down his arms and shoulders._

_“Whoa, you okay? Hey, cool shirt- have you seen the new trailer for Batman Begins? I’m so psyched-”_

_“Mr. Stilinski, why don’t you return to your chair and let Mr. McCall settle in?”_

_The other kid fluffed up Scott’s hair for a moment and eyed his appearance critically before he dragged Scott back to their desks. The teacher let out a loud, heart-felt sigh as she returned to writing the math equations on the white board._

_Scott quickly set to work, copying down the equations and steadfastly ignoring the way the guy who’d tripped him was smirking back at the two of them._

_Like he was a super-villain and nobody else had figured it out yet._

_He jumped at the feel of moist, hot breath on his shoulder, using the rubber tip of his pencil to push the short-haired kid back into his seat. “Dude, what?”_

_The guy smiled, shooting the creeper at the front a sarcastic wave. “Don’t mind Jackson- his parents never taught him how to be a decent human being so the whole world has to suffer for it. I’m Stiles.”_

_He held up his hand, fingers curled, for a fist bump._

_Scott blinked at him for a moment before casually tapping his hand against Stiles’._

_A week later, Scott had bloody knuckles but Jackson had a bruise under his jaw. Stiles was on the ground, a glittery valentine in shreds at his feet and this time Scott was the one pulling him to his feet, fingers tangled in the red strings of his hoodie._

* * *

 

 

“I’m not sure what’s more pathetic- the half-hearted leering at Allison or the cow eyes you keep casting at Stiles,” Erica said, dropping down into the seat across from Scott. Her mouth was painted dark red again, lips curled and smirking.

Boyd joined them a moment later, fingertips orange with cheese dust.

“I’m not leering at Allison,” Scott said mulishly, “I’m not leering at anyone, _Erica_.”

Erica pulled her smoky gaze away from a lovestruck freshman, grinning hard as he sent his lunch tray crashing to the floor. “Just barely. You’ve really got to find yourself some restraint or Lydia Martin is going to poison you in chemistry class and make it look like an accident.”

“Erica!” Isaac whispered harshly but the damage was already done.

Scott’s too-sharp nails dug deeply into the wooden tabletop, his gums aching as he tried not to wolf out in the middle of the cafeteria. There was a shift in the air as Scott wheezed and bent down to push his head between his knees.

Control was hard to come by these days, since the morning Allison’s gaze had turned from sad to apologetic, Lydia’s fingers curled in the curly ends of her hair. That afternoon, Isaac had had to drag him away from the lacrosse field, their gloves in tatters.

A worn out pair of dirty converse stumbled into his line of sight, Stiles sternly telling Isaac to keep his hands to himself, even as he reached for Scott’s shoulders with a gentle touch.

“Hey, buddy. You gotta calm your heart rate down, remember? Breathe, man. Breathing’s good. Find your center. Hum Kumbaya. Get a hold of yourself, _Scott_.”

Nails still too sharp to be safe, Scott reached up, fingers twisting into the dangling hoodie strings and tugged. Stiles hissed warningly, one hand wrapped firmly around Scott’s wrist.

It was a grounding touch, between those worn strings and the callous press of Stiles’s thumb against his pulse the heavy vice around Scott’s ribs let go and he _breathed_.

The others watched with wary hope as he straightened in his seat, his hairline edged with cold sweat.

Stiles gave his shoulder one last awkward pat before he peeled his fingers off of Scott’s hand and said, “So, I’m going to take a guess that we’ve got a problem here.”

  

* * *

 

 

_“Do you believe in Fate?” Mrs. Morell asked him, shuffling a worn deck of cards in her hand. Her fingers were quick, familiar with the process._

_The cards themselves were oddly-shaped; not a normal deck of playing cards but longer, thicker.  Scott shuffled in his seat at the sound they made sliding together, his skin prickling._

_“Fate? Like the little paper you get in your fortune cookie?”_

_Morell shrugged serenely. “Fate, destiny, fortune. They’re one and the same to most.” She set the deck down on the table, facedown. “Shuffle those.”_

_Scott frowned. “You just-“_

_“Shuffle them.”_

_The cards were warm against his palms, the edges dull against his fingers._

_She took them back without a word, after Scott’s skin had touched each and every card._

_The first card down had a picture of a man, tied up in a room full of grotesque faces._

_“The Fool. This is your present. This represents you.”_

_“Thanks, as if I don’t already get enough of that from everyone else,” Scott said with a twist of his mouth. “I’m not stupid.”_

_“That’s not what the card means,” Morell tapped the face with the tip of her nail. “You’re optimistic, ready for a new beginning. A new journey. The Fool stands for innocence, naivety and decisions to be made. It does not stand for ignorance.”_

_She looked hard at Scott, who nodded after a moment of awkward staring and watched as she flipped another card vertically over The Fool._

_“The Wheel of Fortune. Reverse it stands as a warning to you to not be adverse to change. It’s bad luck.”_

_Scott eyed the cards incredulously. “You just said everything was good. I’m optimistic. Now I have bad luck.”_

_“The Wheel of Fortune in this position signifies an immediate obstacle,” Morell said without looking up. “I’m only here to read the cards to you- what they mean is up to your interpretation.”_

_“Adverse to change?” Scott picked at the edge of the chair’s cushion with a heaviness pressing down against his ribs. “Allison?”_

_“I’m sure she’ll come up a time or two this evening.”_

_She flipped another card._

_“This is your distant past. The Devil represents feelings of oppression. Desires for physical and material objects. Monetary burdens.”_

_“My parents’ divorce,” Scott said with a nod. “Things were easier then. Now my mom has to work all the time just to get us through the month.”_

_Morell smiled at him, slow and sharp. “You’re beginning to understand.”_

_The next card- his recent past apparently- was a man in a noose. Morell had given it one word- transformative._

_Scott curled his hand around his stomach to touch the spot Peter had bitten that night in the woods._

_“The Star is a symbol of hope and healing. Of love and protection. It’s your best outcome.”_

_Scott leaned forward, touching the edge of the card with the shimmering eight-point star on its face. “That sounds like a pretty good outcome. What’s the catch?”_

_Morell flipped another card. “Getting there.”_

_The tall tower on this card was falling apart, lightning and rain smashing into it as shadows of people leapt from the top. Scott made a small noise at the sight of it._

_“The Tower at this point represents your immediate future,” Morell held up her hand to quiet him. “Disruption. Conflict. Change. Dramatic upheaval. All the things teenagers are known for.”_

_“You know, I thought you were supposed to make me feel better about my problems,” Scott said, feeling a bit hysterical. A bit dramatically up-heaved. “Not tell me things are going to get worse and show me people jumping off of towers.”_

_“I’ll be sure to hand you a pamphlet on your way out,” Morell replied easily. “Stop taking the cards at face value and listen to their meanings. Nothing is ever what it appears to be.”_

_Scott let out a long breath. Stiles was right- Ms. Morell was kind of a horrible councilor._

_The next card was a woman, dressed in furs and a crown. Her hair as long and dark, her skin pale._

_“The Empress, inverted in the seventh slot, speaks of possible relationship problems. A lack of affection, an ending. This is one of the factors affecting the outcome of your future.”_

_“Allison,” Scott said, his mouth dry. An end. He didn’t want it to end. He wanted to wait._

_“If you see it that way,” Morell said with a graceful shrug of her shoulders.  “The next card will represent another influence on how you deal with the coming challenges.”_

_Scott peered down at the card, immediately feeling his cheeks burn at the sight of two very naked, very detailed people curled together. “Those are- um, are you sure you should be showing me this?”_

_“The Lovers,” Morell said pointedly over him, “represent harmony and union. It’s not necessarily a card of romance or even sexual in nature.”_

_“Then why are their naked people on it?”_

_“It’s typically used to symbolize soul mates,” she said with a sigh. “May I continue?”_

_Scott rubbed a hand across his eyes and nodded. Stiles was going to laugh at him when Scott told him about the naked card._

_“Strength is your biggest hope and your most powerful fear,” she said softly. “It longs for love, for self-control but worries you might succumb to your baser instincts.”_

_Scott shivered at the accuracy. Strength had come easily and been striped away from him since he’s been bitten. He’d gained the ability to run without wheezing, to rip open doors and scale rooftops._

_He’d also gained the urge to tear into people. The instinct to claw first and worry about the consequences later._

_Morell was quiet for a moment, her fingers touching the cards with silent reverence. Scott startled as she spoke softly._

_“This is the last card, the final outcome. The projected path will lead to this,” Morell tapped the back of the card with a stern look. “Remember my warning. Don’t take anything you see here at face value.”_

_She flipped the card._

_Death._

 

* * *

 

“I can’t help him.” 

Stiles took a long, deep breath, his cheeks pink with annoyance. “You can’t help him or you won’t? Because if he wolfs out at school and mauls a kid, that’s coming back on your family again. I don’t think Allison will let this one slide anymore.”

Peter barely gave him a glance. “Derek’s acknowledged Scott as an alpha all his own and Scott has publicly declared himself outside of Derek’s pack. There is nothing I can do for him that Scott doesn’t already know about.”

Scott wasn’t in the mood for this conversation. Outside of biting him to gain power from a pack, Peter had never shown any kind of need to connect with Scott after he’d returned from the dead. The connection they’d had had been severed with the former alpha’s death.

Stiles had dragged him into the jeep anyway, looking jittery and worried and worn at the edges again. The set of his mouth reminded Scott of his mom’s tight smile after a long week of night shifts at the hospital.

He hated that look.

“Stiles, let’s just go- he’s not going to help us. We’ll figure it out. You’ll figure it out.”

Stiles shook of his hold, reaching over to crumple down the paper in Peter’s hand. Only the spike in his heart beat let the room know he was afraid.

“His anchor is failing.”

“Then find him another one,” Peter said sharply, a hard edge to his voice. “One not so weak as the emotional state of a teenage girl. An anchor should never be a person- that was your first mistake. People die, people lock you in the basement and burn down your house, people rip out your throat.”

Scott yanked Stiles back as Peter stood. He smirked and instantly Scott could feel his teeth lengthening. His claws cut through the back of Stiles’ hoodie, making him hiss.

“It works for Jackson and Lydia. She was the only person able to get through to him at the warehouse, as the kanima.”

Peter advanced on them slowly, almost like he was trying to pretend he wasn’t stalking them, and scoffed. “Lydia and Jackson. Yes, _the lovers_.”

Stiles jolted at the heavy way Peter spoke of their friends, his heart stuttering. Peter laughed, low and mean.

“I’d say if Scott’s willing to put his humanity on the line for fragile, fickle hearts, he’d best find someone permanent. Someone willing to span this life and the next.”

Scott growled at the hint of menace in Peter’s words. “Why don’t you ever just say what you mean?”

Stiles nudged him back with a jerk of his shoulder, stumbling over Scott’s trainers as he pulled them both towards the door. “Whatever, we’re done here. Come on, man. Let’s go.”

Peter waved lazily at them, his smirk wide and his eyes dull and dead.

 

* * *

 

“What was that about?” Scott asked as soon as he was sure they were far enough away from the old Hale house to not be heard. “Why’d you stop me?" 

“We weren’t getting anything from him and Derek’s got a cell phone. We’ll just call him, hey even better, have you talked to Deaton yet?”

Scott squinted over at Stiles, taking in the white-knuckled grip on the wheel and the pinched slope of his mouth. “I don’t have to listen to your heart to know you’re keeping something from me. I _know_ you.”

“He’s just talking about some stupid old werewolf lore, if it hasn’t helped you by now it’s not going to,” Stiles admitted. “Lydia and Jackson got lucky. If he didn’t love her, she would have died that night.”

Scott stared at him. Lydia had faced down Jackson with nothing more than luck. He shook his head. “Wait, what’s the lore?”

“I told you, it’s stupid. It’s like, Twilight levels of co-dependant.”

Scott pulled on that scarlet strings of Stiles’ hoodie in reprimand. “Dude, just tell me.”

Stiles huffed out a short breath, his brows furrowed in annoyance. The jeep bucked under them for a long moment before he licked his lips and said, “werewolves mate for life.”

Scott’s mouth dropped open.

“Before you freak out and start telling me all about Allison and the Night of a Thousand Sexual Positions, that doesn’t mean the first person you sleep with is your one and only. There are like, a thousand things wrong with that theory already. I‘m talking eternal bonds here- of the soul.”

“What- how do you know it’s not Allison?” Scott asked, curling his fingers into fists. His hands felt achy and cold at the thought. “I can barely keep it together without her.”

“I’m not saying Allison wouldn’t have made one hell of a good choice in the long run but your soul mate? There’s a kind of inevitably about that, man. A constant longing.”

Scott took a shaky breath. “I told her I’d wait for her. That’s not a constant longing?”

Stiles shrugged. “I’m not saying you’re not destined to be with her in some way-  not all soul mates are lovers. Sometimes they’re family. Sometimes they’re friends.  Sometimes they only meet once and never again. They’re just lasting connections between lives.”

He hesitated, drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel before he added, “it’s why werewolves take betrayal so hard.”

“I don’t know if I can do this without her.”

“Have you even tried- hey, don’t growl at me, man.” Stiles hit the brakes hard before he pulled over to the shoulder of the road. “Let’s face it, Peter was kind of right. Well, not about Allison being fickle. That was rude. Allison as your anchor worked when we needed it to so we didn‘t look at a more permanent solution.”

“So what, I just go around asking people if they feel like they know me on a spiritual level?” Scott asked, his stomach growing tight and heavy at the prospect. There were so many people in the world, how was he going to find one that he’d always have?

“No, man will you listen to me? For once? Finding a soul mate is going about it the hard way. We ask Derek what he uses to anchor himself. We ask Isaac. We punch Peter in the face the next time we see him. We find you another anchor. Got it?”

Stiles held up his fist, nodding at it when Scott hesitated.

“Hey, I’ve got you. Okay?”

Scott felt the knot in his belly loosen at the response. He didn’t need to listen to know Stiles’ heart wouldn’t stutter.

He tapped his fist.

“Okay.”

 

* * *

 

“Isaac said you wanted to talk to me.” 

Stiles started violently as he flicked on the light to his bedroom to reveal Derek Hale hovering like a creep in the corner of his room.

“No, I told Isaac to tell you to call me, not break into my house and hide in my bedroom like a total creeper- is this what lycanthropy does to people?” Stiles wondered, looking back at Scott in askance. “Releases their inner serial killer potential?”

“Would you like a demonstration?” Derek asked, his smirk brittle and a little angry.

Scott bristled at the question, the hair on the back of his neck prickling with the flash of irritation. “How’d you even get in here?”

Derek stalked towards him, his mouth set in a hard line. Scott didn’t move, didn’t back down even when the red glow of the Alpha lit up Derek’s gaze. Stiles seemed to vibrated between them, his eyes darting around the room until Scott let out a soft whine.

“Hey, okay enough. Go to your separate corners.” Stiles pushed himself between them, his back to Scott as he tried ineffectually to shove at Derek’s chest. Scott pushed himself closer, already feeling that tense rush of adrenaline that came just before the change.

Stiles huffed back at him. “As much as the surprise homo-erotic subtext of this meeting amuses me, we’re not going to get anything done if the two of you can’t zip it up and use your words. So back up and calm down.”

Derek stayed there, broad and imposing, a moment longer letting the tension in the air hang heavy. Scott felt his nails lengthen and grit his teeth against the urge to take a swipe at the werewolf trying to dominate him.

Then, as quick as a blink, Derek dropped the pretence, rolling his shoulders easily. Stiles let out a shuddery breath of relief as he stepped back and dropped onto the computer chair in a careless sprawl.

Scott struggled to find the same composure. Stiles eased back against his chest reassuringly- a momentary grounding touch- and pulled away.

Derek watched them curiously. “Well?”

Stiles held his hand out, gesturing to Scott that the floor was his with a small grin. Scott threw himself down onto the bed with a grunt. “I need a new anchor.”

Derek’s gaze sharpened, even if he didn’t show any sign of concern. “And?”

There was no way Scott was going to ask for help. Not from Peter and definitely not from Derek.

Stiles dropped his head back to groan wearily at the ceiling. “And we were wondering how he’d go about getting one? Any tips there, O’Alpha, my Alpha?”

Scott couldn’t hold back the flinch at hearing that- he might not have been a red-eyed, pack-building biter kind of werewolf but instinct told him that Stiles was in his pack.

Derek was Alpha to neither of them.

“Need I remind you that Scott rejected the invitation into my pack publicly weeks ago?” Derek bared his teeth. “Scott’s an Omega. Anything that happens now? Not my problem.”

That sick, slick feeling of panic clawed its way up Scott’s throat at the words. Omega. Nearly everyone had agreed; there was nothing worse.

Stiles shook his head, frowning hard. “No, _totally_ your problem- or did you forget why the Alpha pack even let you have Erica and Boyd back in one piece?”

Derek sat up at the pointed reminder.

“Yeah, you want to be the big bad Alpha of Beacon Hills? You’ve got to accept the responsibility that comes with it. All a man like Chris Argent needs to justify wiping out your whole pack is one werewolf going off his head and slaughtering a few townsfolk.” Stiles kicked out at the side of the bed, jostling Scott. “And Scott’s not an Omega- I won’t let him be.”

“Human packs don’t-”

“Try again, man. If human packs don’t count why did Peter need to mind-warp Scott into trying to kill us all off?” 

Derek kept silent for a moment longer, staring hard at Stiles who refused to back down. Scott drummed his restless fingers against his stomach and tried not to vibrate out of his skin.

Finally, Derek let out a short huff. “Fine. What do you want me to do?”

Scott sat up, stunned. “You’ll help us?”

Derek just stared at them silently, as if that question was too idiotic for actual words.

“So like, anchors,” Stiles said into the silence, snatching his laptop off the night table and dropping to sit on the floor. “What’s the general fallback plan when one starts failing?”

“You find another one.”

Stiles pulled a face. “Wow, problem solved. We would have never figured that one out on our own. Gosh, man- you’re just a bottomless pit of information. What would we ever do with out?”

Derek smirked at him wanly.

“Anchors aren’t just for controlling the transformation, they’re there to remind us that we’re not just wolves, we’re men as well,” Derek said, leaning forward to brace his elbows on his knees. “They stand as reminders of our human selves.”

“And when they stop working?” Scott asked, quiet and thoughtful. Derek glanced over at him.

“It usually stems from something in our human minds. Emotional instability, the loss of a family member or friendship. A betrayal.”

The clattering of keys came to a sudden halt as Stiles looked up. “So it’s kind of like a Patronus. Think of a memory to keep the dementors away- or in this case to keep you guys from slaughtering innocent people.”

Derek hummed at him.

“What’s yours?” Scott asked, moving his feet off the bed, brushing the dirt of his sneakers off the comforter sheepishly.

Stiles gapped at him.  “Scott, you can’t just ask a man what his anchor is.”

Derek shrugged. “Anger.”

There was a moment of incredulous silence before anyone spoke.

“Anger.” Stiles shook his head in amazement. “ _Anger_. Well, thanks for nothing. Anger triggers the change and you use it for control- why am I even surprised? You would totally be that contrary.”

“What do you want me to do? I can’t find Scott an anchor, Stiles.” Derek said, heaving himself up out of the computer chair. “Scott’s going to have to figure this out himself, it isn’t something any of us can do for him.”

“And if I can’t?” Scott asked, glancing at the rip away calendar on the night table. “The full moon’s only a couple weeks away.”

Derek rolled his eyes, as if they were both being purposely obtuse. “Then we’ll lock you up in the basement. Stiles is right- I can’t have you running around town without an anchor on the full moon.”

Stiles grinned at him, obviously overjoyed at Derek admitting his was right. Derek slapped him on the back of the head as he made for the hallway.

“Lock your back door, Stilinski- if you’re not careful, someone might break in.”

Scott stared wide-eyed at the doorway long after Derek had left.

Stiles made a soft, disbelieving noise. “And all this time I thought he was using the window.”

-tbc-


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so the timeline is clear, anything in italics has happened in the past. The past is the stretch of time between the finale, the final days of school, the summer and the start of the new school year when Allison definitely ends things with Scott.

 

Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of 

(His and Mine Are The Same)

 

Isaac tiptoed around the question of his anchor for nearly a week before Scott cornered him in the locker room tried not to sound like he was begging.

 “An anchor doesn’t have to be something you have _now_ ,” Isaac said, shrugging a shirt on. “It could be a memory, a person you don’t have anymore.”

Scott crossed his arms, the damp cotton sticking to his elbows as he shrugged. “Peter said it would be stupid to make my new anchor a person. They’re easy to lose.”

Isaac squeezed a handful of his damp blond hair with the towel before shaking his head. “We’re listening to Peter now?”

“It’s not like Derek’s been any help.”

Isaac frowned at him for a moment, sitting down to pull on his sneakers. “Derek’s doing the best he can, Scott. You don’t have to like the guy to see that.”

He shook his head. “Look, maybe the trick is to make it someone you’ve already lost. I mean, maybe- your dad?”

Scott immediately stepped back. It wasn’t exactly a huge secret that Isaac’s dad had been a real piece of crap, even if the people in a position to do anything about it were hard pressed to try. Still, he knew Isaac held some kind of fondness for the man his father used to be and for whatever reason, Scott knew that it helped him when the moon was at its highest. What Isaac remembered most of his father was strong enough to hold him down to his humanity.

What Scott remembered most about his own father was his mother’s tears.

“No,” Scott said, swallowing hard and clenching his jaw. “It’s not my dad.”

Isaac silently clapped a hand down on his shoulder.

 

* * *

 

 

_“This is the last project of the year,” Harris said over the noise of the morning bell. “By the end of the month, all I’ll have to see of your faces is the final exam. Thankfully.”_

_Stiles slouched in his seat at the pointed look._

_“Since you don’t want to do another project and I don’t want to have to read your sloppy excuse for a lab report, we’re going to pair up- the less work I have to do for you ingrates, the better. No more than three to a group- move.”_

_Isaac bumped Scott’s desk with his hip. “Tell me you know shit about chemistry. I transferred in late with Erica.”_

_Scott shrugged. “I’m just shy of failing three classes- let me grab Stiles.”_

_A small, pale hand slapped down hard on the desk._

_“Don’t even think about it, McCall,” Lydia said with a short smile. “Stilinski’s mine. Why don’t the two of your go back to chasing your tails while the rest of us get on with passing this class, okay?”_

_“Lydia- what the hell-“ Scott hissed warningly, looking around the classroom. Jackson and Danny had already snatched up Allison, pushing their stools together and getting down to work._

_Stiles kept looking around at the rest of the groups, his gaze firmly avoiding Scott and Isaac’s station._

_“Do you know what happens when you don’t take care of your friends, Scott?” Lydia asked, reaching up to twirl a strawberry blond curl. “Someone steps in to take them. Ah- not a word out of you.”_

_Scott closed his open mouth and huffed as Lydia straightened from his station, one hand coming up to slap him playfully on the back of the head as she walked away. Isaac stared back at him, just as clueless about the whole exchange as they watched her stride up to her target._

_Stiles’ expression was almost comical as Lydia latched onto the back of his plaid shirt and hauled him away from the nearest group._

_“Hey-“_

_“Now, Stilinski. My perfect GPA doesn’t have time for your…everything right now. Can you at least get the magnesium without hurting yourself?”_

_“It’s- it’s in solid form,” Stiles said, dropping his back at the front most station, obviously completely baffled. “How could I possibly hurt myself?”_

_Lydia hummed at him and flapped an imperious hand towards the storage room._

_Scott kept watching but not once did Stiles glance back at him._

 

* * *

 

It felt weird, knocking on the door to the Stilinski house, kind of like knocking on your bedroom door. Scott rapped again, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he listened to someone set down their dishes and head for the door.

From the slightly-elevated heart rate, Scott knew it wasn’t Stiles.

“Scott,” Sheriff Stilinski said slowly. “Long time, no see.”

Scott scuffed the toes of his sneakers against the porch. “Yeah, how’ve you been? Still trying to talk Stiles out of the benefits of tofu burgers?”

The Sheriff stared at him. “Come on, kid. I served you with a restraining order a few months ago- I think we’re a bit past the pleasantries.”

Scott scrubbed at the back of his head anxiously with his palm. “Um, yeah but Jackson totally had his parents lift the restraining order. It was just a big misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding is what you call it when you tell your son you ordered a veggie pizza online and they gave you the meat lover’s by accident. A restraining order? Not a misunderstanding.”

Scott nodded sharply. “Right. Of course. I was totally grounded for what we did to Jackson but I was kind of wondering if Stiles was home?”

The Sheriff squinted at him, arms crossed as he leaned against the doorjamb. “Yeah, he’s home. He’s been home all summer actually. You been busy, Scott?”

“Friends fight sometimes,” he said, looking desperately at the stairs. Maybe Stiles hadn’t heard him knock?

The Sheriff nodded. “Okay. Let’s just forget the fact that the two of you have been inseparable since you met in the fifth grade. Was it about a girl?”

Scott wanted to bury his face in his hands at the very thought. “No- no, Stiles and I. I mean, Allison and I ended it for sure and Isaac’s been a good friend and we just- drifted. I tried to talk to him, I swear-“

“Scott!” Stiles said from up above them. “Dad, what are you doing- he's not selling Girl Guide cookies again, is he?  You know you can't have those anymore.”

The Sheriff stepped back, clapping Scott on the shoulder as Stiles slowly stomped down the stairs and eyed them both suspiciously.

“Just catching up with Scott,” his dad said. He tugged on Scott’s hoodie. “I was just going to send him up to ask if Lydia wanted to stay for dinner.”

Scott nearly tripped over his own feet as Lydia descended the stairs behind Stiles and smiled at the Sheriff.

“I have plans for dinner, but thank you for thinking of me.”

Stiles’ dad nodded shortly. “Dinner in 30, kid.”

No one said a word as they watched him walk back into the kitchen. Lydia’s bright smile dropped as she looked from Scott to Stiles. “Really?”

“Goodbye, Lydia.” Stiles said pointedly. A small, genuine smile crossed his face as Lydia dropped a quick kiss onto his cheek.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she eyed Scott again. “I don’t repeat my mistakes.”

 Scott opened the door, frowning. “ _Goodbye_ Lydia.”

Stiles punched him hard in the shoulder. “Be nice, dude.”

Scott stared hard after Lydia as she all but strutted her way down the porch steps and into the sporty red car parked at the curb. “Are the two of you- but Jackson-“

Stiles held up his hands. “No way. We’re good now- completely platonic. Apparently once Lydia Martin decides you’re her friend you either agree or she’ll eat you alive. Like a very pretty, platonically-inclined  _praying mantis_.”

 The sound of cursing and silverware hitting the kitchen floor prompted Stiles to jerk his head towards the stairs. “Come on.”

“I’ve been checking out a few of the websites that actually seem to know their shit when it comes to werewolves and all of them pretty much say the same thing- you’ve got to figure this out yourself.”

Scott hummed, standing in the open doorway to Stiles’ room. It felt odd, like an unseen physical barrier pushing against his skin, almost as if he were waiting to be invited in again. He hadn’t noticed before, too tied up in worry over nearly wolfing out at school again, that even the setup of the room looked different from his memory. As if everything had been shifted an inch to the left while he’d been gone.

“There was this one website that kind of compared an anchor to a totem- which begs the question that if the werewolf side of you is the dream state, how deep can you go and-“ Stiles stopped. “Why are you hovering in the hall?”

Scott shrugged. “Your dad’s mad at me.”

“He’s not mad at you- he loves you,” Stiles said quickly.

“Yeah and that’s why he interrogated me when I knocked on the door.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “He let you in eventually.”

“Stiles…” Scott shuffled in, closing the door and winkled his nose. “It smells like Lydia in here.”

“Yeah, she wanted a copy of my Bio notes.”

Scott frowned, leaning back against the door. His shoulders itched under the heat of his hoodie. “Please don’t lie to me.”

Stiles- who had been spinning in his computer chair- stilled. “Then don’t sniff out who I let into my room besides you- and dude, are you scent-marking my door?”

Scott jolted away from the wood, where he’d been rubbing his shoulder blades against the ridges of the door. “No. I just- is this about Isaac?”

Stiles turned back towards his laptop. “I didn’t make friends with Lydia in retaliation for Isaac- dude, can we not talk about this right now? Maybe spend more time worrying about your furry little problem?”

“So you _are_ angry at me. I think we need to talk about this, Stiles.”

“No, we don’t.”

Irritation licked at the back of Scott’s mind as he gripped the back of Stiles’ computer chair and turned him back around. “ _Stiles_.”

Stiles sucked in a hard breath of surprise and tried to lean back. “You need to put those peepers away right now.”

Scott stumbled back, catching a glimpse of his flashing eyes in the glare of the window. His nails scraped against the leather over Stiles’ shoulder. The sound of his own breath, heavy and panting, came in with a sudden clarity.

It wasn’t fair. He wasn’t even all that angry.

“This is why I don’t want to talk about it,” Stiles said, sitting back up as Scott backed off. “You’ve got like, no control right now. I get angry and the most I can do to you is cut you off but you? You could _kill_ me- you’ve tried before. So I need you to just let it go, okay?”

“You’re scared of me,” Scott said, dropping the bed. His throat felt tight, prickling at the thought. “You’re _scared_ of me.”

Stiles kicked at his sneaker. “Hey, don’t flatter yourself.  I haven’t been scared of you ever since that time you cried when the cat went over the waterfall in Homeward Bound.”  

Scott didn’t laugh. “I don’t want you to be scared or angry because of me.”

Stiles looked skyward, exasperated. “Then work on controlling yourself. Another anchor isn’t just going to fall into your lap.”

“I asked Isaac what he used,” he admitted, tapping the toe of his sneaker against Stiles’ ankle. “He suggested I use my dad.”

“Yeah, how about a resounding no on that- and dude, stop asking people what their anchors are. This is about you.”

“Dinner’s ready!” The Sheriff shouted up the stairs. Scott shot Stiles a pleading look.

He sighed, holding out a hand. “Come on, we’re got spaghetti so I’m going to need someone to help me keep my dad from drowning his whole wheat pasta in meaty-tomato sauce. If there's cheesy garlic bread, I'll hold him down and you run with it.”

Scott pulled himself to his feet and yanked Stiles into a hug. “Shut up and hug me.”

“Ugh, Scott. _Food_. There is a hot meal waiting for us just downstairs, you can get emotionally later,” Stiles muttered into his hair.  All that mattered to Scott was that he hugged back.

 

* * *

 

_Scott awoke to a boot in his face, the heel grinding down hard against his jaw._

_“Welcome back to the land of the living, sweetheart.”_

_The largest Alpha Scott had ever seen in human form gripped his hair and yanked him to his feet. The world blurred across his vision, the dark of the woods and the bright of the night sky._

_They were near the Hale house, if the scent of mold and old fire was to be believed. Scott groaned._

_“What do you want?”_

_The alpha pulled at his hair, stretching Scott’s head back and baring his neck. “Unoccupied territory. Rogue Alphas. Hunters making home in your town. The kanima. We’ve found the werewolves of Beacon Hills wanting.”_

_Derek stumbled into view out of the corner of Scott’s eye, bloody and barely conscious. The lone female alpha kept him upright, her claws at his throat. “Too much has happened in this town. Too many people have died because the two of you have neglected your responsibilities as alphas. This one more so than you. You’re practically an omega.”_

_Derek snarled at her weakly._

_Scott elbowed the alpha at his back, gasping as he let go of his hair and shoved him to the ground. “Then why am I here?”_

_“We’re not completely barbaric.” A low, smooth voice said from the trees. Scott fought the urge to bow his head as another werewolf came into the clearing. His presence was heavy, almost old. Powerful._

_He smiled, barely a hint of fangs glinting in the moonlight. “Every criminal gets a chance to defend himself.”_

_Scott whined as the man stepped closer and crouched down to lift his head. “So tell me, Scott McCall. Why shouldn’t I rip out Derek’s throat?”_

 

* * *

 

 

Boyd stared at him, silent and expressionless.

Scott shot him a hesitant smile. “I’m just trying to figure out my options? You don’t have to go into detail- Derek didn’t and Erica kind of punched me in the face but-“

“You’re going to stop talking and I’m going to head to my next class,” Boyd said calmly. “You are never going to ask me that question again and I’ll be kind enough to forget you asked at all.”

Scott stared. “Okay.”

Boyd left without another word.

Stiles stood just outside the library, and eyed Scott suspiciously. “I don’t even need werewolf-enhanced hearing to know you were doing exactly what I keep telling you not to.”

“I’m just trying-“ Scott’s jaw snapped shut as Allison stopped short just behind Stiles. She looked good, the sunshine from the window at her back lit up her hair, and took Scott’s breath away. Immediately, he grinned.

Allison smiled briefly. “Hey, can we talk?”

Stiles was already shaking his head minutely. Scott ignored him.

“Sure.”

“Oh my _God_ \- I’m not going any further than the returns cart because this? This idea officially sucks,” Stiles said, pointing at them both. “Seriously.”

 He didn't wait for a confirmation.

Despite the dramatics, Allison laughed. “I see the two of you are friends again.”

“Yeah,” Scott said, “We fight sometimes but I don’t think I could ever get rid of Stiles.”

“And even if you did, he’d find his way back,” she finished, grinning so hard her dimples peeked back at him. “I’m glad that you have him. After everything that happened between us- I’m glad.”

Scott nodded and tried not to feel like they were both trying too hard to be okay with this. His face kind of hurt from all the smiling.

Allison took his hand suddenly.

“Okay, enough- I need to know that you’re going to be okay,” she said, low and desperate. “I’m sorry but I can’t be responsible for you too. I’m sorry-“

“Hey, no,” he pulled her into a short hug, breathed in deep for the last time. “Don’t you ever feel sorry for how we turned out. Everything we had was amazing and it’ll always be great but I am not your responsibility. Not even if we had worked things out. Okay?”

Allison sniffed hard. “I just feel like we were so close, you know? So close to having it all but-“

“The timing was never right?”

“And now it’s too late.” Allison pulled back, wiping her eyes quickly. “We’ll still be friends? We won’t be like those couples who break up and everything is just awkward and horrible and ruined.”

Scott let her goes, curled his fists tight and nodded. “Soon. Until then…”

Allison tucked her hair behind her ear. “You’ve still got Stiles.”

 

* * *

 

 

_“You can’t just kill him,” Scott said, pulling his chin out of the alpha’s grip with a wince._

_“I believe you’ll find that I can.”_

_“He hasn’t done anything- all that stuff you just said,” Scott said desperately, poking his head out to speak to the alpha holding Derek. “I mean, yeah Jackson was kind of his fault but who could know that biting him would turn him into a giant lizard?”_

_Derek rolled his eyes. “Not helping, Scott.”_

_“This isn’t exactly my strong suit.”_

_“It doesn’t matter,” Derek rolled his shoulders, straightening in the alpha’s hold. “They’re going to kill me no matter what you say. Just keep your mouth shut and stop giving them a reason to.”_

_A hand clamped down on Scott’s shoulder, shoving him back into the solid chest of the first werewolf. “You’re right. We have a sweeter deal for Scott, here. We’ve already heard everything we need to about Derek to make a judgment, from two very close sources.”_

_Scott surged forward as Erica and Boyd stumbled into the clearing, hands shackled together in front of them. They were dirty, the scent of blood and fear heavy around them as Scott dropped to his knees and rolled Boyd onto his back._

_The head alpha nodded at the man holding their chains, identical to the alpha that had ground his foot into Scott’s face. “Secure the area.”_

_He disappeared into the forest without a word._

_“What in the hell did you do to them?”_

_“Simple interrogation. Don’t be soft, McCall,” he said easily, reminding Scott of Peter for a horrifying moment. “Despite the fact that we caught these two fleeing their pack, it seems the bond between beta and alpha was stronger than we’d anticipated. It took a while to break them.”_

_Derek roared, flinging the alpha at his back clear over the treetops. The big guy tackled him to the ground before he could reach their leader._

_“You’re brave, Derek Hale,” he said serenely. “Some would call you reckless, but that involves a certain kind of wild abandon you’ve yet to succumb to.”_

_“Get this ape off me and I’ll gladly show you just how wild I am.”_

_The alpha laughed, his boots crunching over the underbrush as he walked towards Scott. “His fate is sealed, the only decision you have to make, Scott- is if it’ll be you or I that takes his power.”_

 

* * *

 

 

“I was thinking you could come with us after school,” Isaac said, leaning casually back against the lockers. “Deaton gave you the day off?”

“He’s meeting with Ms. Morel and it’s hard to be secretive when your only employee has werewolf hearing,” Scott said, shrugging. “I have to be home for dinner with my mom.”

Isaac grinned at him. “Erica and Boyd are bringing pizza.”

“I could use a snack.”

Stiles waved him off when Scott tried to get his attention, arguing furiously with Lydia about something way more advanced than their Biology 101 class. “Call me after dinner- I’m going to make sure my dad eats something green tonight.”

“Want me to spend the night?” Scott asked, walking backwards, almost reluctant to leave.

Stiles shot him a thumbs up when Lydia interrupted them.

“Excuse me.” Her glare was icy. “We were having a private conversation.”

 Isaac dragged him away before he could do more than growl at her. “I guess you haven’t fixed your anger problem.”

“I think it’s just a Lydia problem.”

“It’ll be a hunter problem if McCall can’t get his head together,” Erica said, bumping Isaac with her hip. “Are you coming to train with us?”

Scott shrugged, a buzzing film of annoyance still clinging to his skin. “I guess so.”

“Good,” she said with a sharp-toothed grin. “I’ve always kind of wanted to kick your ass.”

Scott huffed an incredulous laugh as she stepped away from them with another teasing hip bump at Isaac. The prospect of running with the other werewolves, of tumbling to the ground and getting dirty and growling at anything that moved let the anxiety that squeezed at his ribs relax just a bit.

From Isaac’s wild grin, he was just as excited about the idea. Even his _curls_ looked happy.

“Derek’s going to be cool about me crashing your training?”

Isaac bounced on his heels, preparing to take off into the woods at a run. “Derek’s the one who asked me to extend the invitation to you.”

He took off and with a moment’s hesitation, Scott followed.

 

* * *

 

 

Derek’s idea of training, Scott found, left a lot to be desired.

“Do you teach them _anything_ about defending themselves?” He asked, watching Isaac skid across the gravel for the tenth time in a row. “Or do you just like to feel powerful by throwing them to the floor?”

Derek clenched his jaw, the sound of gritted teeth gratingly loud somehow. “It’s about establishing their individual weaknesses. If Isaac can figure it out on his own, he can adjust his attack and catch me off guard.”

Scot winced as Isaac took another leap at Derek, body open and vulnerable to attack. “He can’t figure out what he’s doing wrong if he has no idea what he’s even doing in the first place.”

“Hey!” Isaac said, scrubbing dirt off his cheek roughly. Erica and Boyd stopped circling each other to watch as Derek turned towards Scott.

“I’ve been doing this my entire life, learning how to fight for survival- especially against other werewolves,” he said, crossing his arms. “You think you know how to train them better than I do? Barely a year after the bite?”

Scott looked away, feeling foolish for a moment before the overwhelming urge to prove himself- to Derek, to the other betas- swelled in his chest. His breath caught with need, with the yearning to reestablish his ranking in the pack he’s turned down.  “I took them down before.”

Derek, without a word, nodded to Erica.

She stepped in close, waited for Scott to rise to his feet from his spot on the dirt and grinned. “I heard Jeremy Wringer is going to ask Allison to go to the movies with him this weekend.”

The air punched out of Scott’s lungs at that, the world hazing out at the edges to a bright familiar red. Isaac swore but is was a distant, echoing memory of sound.

Erica didn’t wait for him to shake it off, raking her claws across his arm before Scott darted out of the way.

Her eyes flashed amber as Scott growled at her and crouched down, ready to pounce.

She laughed, high and mocking when he missed.

“You’ve gotten better at this.”

Erica preened when she’d skipped out of his reach again. “I told you I wanted to kick your ass.”

The red seeped back into his vision, a hard pounding at his temples as Scott shook his head and tried to calm down.

“You’re letting your anger get the most of you,” Derek called out, sounding bored already. “You’re easy prey.”

Erica dug her claws hard into Scott’s back, shoving him down onto the ground as he snarled at her and gave into the fury clawing at his heart.

A high, startled noise whispered from Erica’s lips as Scott curled his claws in deep- too deep for training, for anything other than a kill- and wrenched his hand up. Ribs cracked under the force of his hand, ringing in his ears as blood splattered across his arms, chest and face.

The scent spurred him on, kicked up his heart rate even as someone roared to his left. He dropped Erica, fingers slick with her blood and bared his teeth at the Alpha, challenging him.

“Scott, _don’t move_.”

The other betas were gathered around Scott’s prey, snarling when he edged closer. With another low growl of frustration, he took off into the woods, jaw snapping for something else to bite.

 

* * *

 

 

The rabbit was stringy this time of the year, too thin and _scared_ as Scott ripped into it, both hands curled against its body as he ran. The Alpha kept at his back, a looming shadow as Scott swallowed down a mouthful of blood and muscle and tossed the cooling body aside.

It wasn’t enough to sate the tight, empty feeling of hunger that his anger had brought roaring into life. His belly ached, his mouth watered and his nose caught scent of the faintest hint of bigger quarry right before the familiar sound of a rumbling engine caught Scott’s ears and he changed direction.

He knew the scent of pack better than prey.

Unfortunately Scott’s pack usually came speeding down the dirt road in a heavy, metal wrapper.

Stiles didn’t even have a chance to hit the breaks before he slammed into him. The world exploded into white and silence and calm.

Scott sat up in the dirt, his hip and shoulder aching. There was gravel in his mouth and blood on his hands but the uncontrollable urge to rip into something warm was gone.

The soft rumble of the jeep cut off, sinking the forest into silence. Scott looked up to catch sigh of Stiles’ face- pale cheeked and wide-eyed- through the windshield.

“I hit you with my jeep.”

Scott buried his face in his hands with a groan. “I nearly ripped Erica’s chest open.”

“I hit you with my _jeep_.”

Derek skidded across the dirt road, sliding into a crouch, alpha teeth bared. “Scott!”

“Stiles hit me with his jeep.”

“Accidentally! Isaac called me and said you were getting cranky so I was coming to get you,” Stiles shouted, sticking his head out the window to frown at them. “Look both ways next time, you _ass_.”

“I was too busy looking for someone to eat!”

“If you’re done screaming at each other like children, maybe we can take this back to my place?” Derek asked dryly, his gaze intense as Scott pulled himself to his feet.

Stiles jerked his thumb at the passenger’s side door and turning the key in the ignition. “We’ll meet you there.”

Derek slammed a hand down hard on the open window, startling him hard. “We’ll meet you there. Scott could use the run to cool down.”

“I just _hit him_ with my _jeep_.”

“And like Erica, Scott’s fine.” Derek leaned in, catching Stiles’ gaze. “You wanted me to help him, making sure he doesn’t rip open your throat is a part of that help. We’ll meet you there.”

“Okay okay, calm down.” Stiles said, reaching over to attempt to pry Derek’s fingers off his door. “Let go of my jeep and I’ll meet you there. No need to go all alpha control voice on me.”

Scott smiled briefly as the jeep bounced down the road and around the bend.

“Is Erica really okay?”

Derek sighed hard, coming to stand next to him, hands in his pockets. “She’ll be completely healed by the time Stiles gets back to them. It’s Boyd you might have to watch your back around. He wasn’t pleased.”

Scott grimaced. Boyd was huge, taller than even Derek. Being on his bad side wasn’t going to be fun.

Derek steered him back through the trees and away from the road, quiet in that heavy way that told Scott he wanted to say something.

“What? Just say it.”

Derek kept his gaze ahead. “You haven’t noticed?”

“Obviously not if you have to bring it up.”

“Don’t be a smartass- I’m talking about your control issues.” Derek pulled his hands out of his pockets, watching the way his claws grew out and receded at will. “Jackson aside, none of the other betas were as out of control as you’ve been. They were arrogant and reckless but they’ve never turned on each other outside that first full moon.”

Scott tried to keep his breathing level, keep his heart rate down. It was all he knew how to do to keep himself human. “So the constant irritation isn’t normal?”

“It’s normal- we’re creatures with extra-sensory abilities in a hyper-sensatory world,” Derek said pointedly. “It’s not irritation that’s making you change. You’re exceptionally sensitive to anger. It’s almost like-“

Scott stopped dead in the middle of the woods at Derek’s silence. He felt cold, even in the dying summer sun. “What?”

“Bloodlust. When a werewolf goes feral, they sometimes fall into a frenzy.”

Scott let out the breath he hadn’t even noticed was caught in his lungs. “Am I-“

“The others can keep an eye on you at school,” Derek said decisively, cutting off Scott’s quiet question. “After school, you need to come straight here until we find you an anchor. I’ll tell Isaac to keep on you.”

Scott nodded, willing away the lick of anger at having to follow Derek’s orders. “I’ll get Stiles to drop us off-“

“Not Stiles- ride your bike, run if you have to,” he snapped. “You can’t put Stiles in that kind of danger anymore, Scott. You think you can rip him open the way you did with Erica today and he’ll just heal? He’s human.”

“I _know_ that.”

“You need to more than know it- remember it,” Derek said, lengthening his stride. “Come on, we’ve got to talk to the others.”

Scott didn’t wait for Derek as he took off into the woods, back towards the Hale House.

 -tbc-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's been some amazing 'anchor/soul mate/ co-dependency' meta on tumblr that has had me captivated for days because it hits a lot of the points in the plots of the Scott/Allison and Scott/Stiles relationships and my theories about how each character's anchor works. Even what an anchor actually is and how it's chosen. 
> 
> I've broken off a bit from the show's canon (mostly because, as someone once said, some of the werewolf lore on the show can be summed up with 'drunk cats') but hopefully it's nothing too out of place.
> 
> Mostly it seems, asking someone to describe their anchor in full detail seems to give you the exact same response as asking a kindergartner "what is love?" It isn't a universal definition.
> 
> Scott and Lydia don't really get along on the show, so there's some playful animosity there. Writing Lydia is hard but I enjoy the idea of Lydia and Stiles teaming up together to just R&D the shit out of everyone else around them. 
> 
> Also Derek is the king of lame, cliched threats okay. He just likes to look cool while saying them. There's a lot of not-so-playful animosity between Scott and Derek that is mostly the werewolf version of cultural confusion and the circle of mistrust they all have. In-between tossing each other through walls or forcing them to bite other people. Ugh, they have issues.
> 
> Finally, there will be more Allison in the coming chapters and yes, Scott is a lethal ball of lupine fury right now but there is a reason for that. Seriously.
> 
> Sorry for the impossibly long notes. I have posting anxiety.


	3. Chapter 3

Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of

(His and Mine Are The Same)

 

_It was different, standing here now with Derek on his knees and the alpha pack watching them, shuffling with excitement at his silence._

_They weren’t friends- Scott still dreamed about how much easier his life would have been if he’d been the one to kill Peter that night, if he’d gotten his cure- but their mutual continued survival and the safety of the people they cared about always brought them together in the end._

_With Derek here, looking at him like he expected Scott to gleefully rip out his throat? Scott wouldn’t have killed Peter that night, not even for his cure._

_Just like he wouldn’t kill Derek now._

_“You’re not killing Derek.”_

_The alpha gripped Scott’s shoulders, leaning in close to whisper in his ear. “I won’t if you’d like to do the honours.”_

_Scott shrugged him off, highly aware of the fact that he was successful only because the alpha believed he was angry enough to want his own revenge._

_His claws slid out slowly, eyes flashing as he lowered his gaze to the ground. Derek’s heart was pounding, his breathing ragged and it stunned Scott to recognize the scent of fear on him._

_His teeth crowded his mouth as he snarled, “no one is killing Derek.”_

_A loud howl broke through the woods as Scott twisted his shoulders and dug his clawed hands up and under the alpha’s ribcage._

_Derek dropped to the ground, rolling hard and roaring as the alpha holding his shoulders slashed across his back frantically._

_Scott hit the ground hard himself when he tried to toss the alpha in his hands, flipping onto his back and denting the earth beneath him._

_A clawed hand wrapped around his throat just as Derek overpowered his own opponent and buried his fist in her belly._

_“Boss!” The burly alpha was on his front, face covered in blood from Boyd’s claws. Erica kept his leg twisted beneath her weight, refusing to allow him to heal as she worked on the shackles around her wrists._

_Scott gasped wetly as the fingers at his throat tightened and the others looked up._

_“Did you think you could outwit me?” He asked, voice shaking with suppressed rage. His claws cut into the flesh just shy of Scott’s jugular. “Stop or he dies.”_

_Derek twisted something inside the alpha female in response. Erica’s hands slowed warily._

_Scott had always wondered if he could be strangled. If Peter Hale could heal from the wreckage that had been left of his body after the fire, wouldn’t he heal from a little oxygen deprivation?_

_His vision had begun to tunnel out when Lydia freaking Martin stepped out of the treeline and into the clearing._

 

* * *

 

 

Erica easily avoided Scott for three days before she greeted him with a sudden upper cut to the chin that morning.

“You owe me a new shirt, McCall,” she said, checking her nails for chips in the dark violet polish.

Scott tipped his head back and panted against the urge to change. Isaac stepped into the glow of the sun and nudged his head with the toe of his sneaker. “Deep breaths or I’ll go get Stiles again.”

Scott counted down from twenty in his head before he could take the hand Boyd offered him.

There was a text from his mom on his phone by second period, promising Scott the car over the weekend if he’d bring her the juiciest burger in town for her lunch break and the purse she’d left on the kitchen table that morning.

Stiles cornered him in history class. “If you even think about skipping ahead of me to Derek’s, I’m going to nail your tail to the floor. Why are you running when I have a mode of transportation that requires you to sit _and_ travel?”

His phone beeped again, just as the late bell’s shrill ring cut through the air. “I’m not going today- errands for the car this weekend.”

He checked the text and groaned. “And work apparently.”

Stiles shuffled his desk closer, leaning across the aisle to rest his arm on Scott’s desk. He smelled faintly of Scott, the scent calming the buzz of irritation itching beneath his skin. “Are you going to tell Deaton? About the-“ He curled his fingers into hooks, mouth pulled back in a silent snarl.

Scott shoved him off the desk, keeping a grip on his arm while Stiles flailed in mid-air.

“No, I mean- do you think it would help?”

Stiles yanked his arm out of Scott’s grip, straightening his shirt with a glare. “Maybe? The guy has freaking magical _dirt_. He has to know something he’s not telling us. As usual.”

“Besides the soul mate thing?” Scott  

 Stiles bit his lip. “Scott…”

Isaac skidded into the seat on their left, looking ruffled as the teacher shot him a dark look.

“You’re late, Mr. Lahey.”

Isaac shrugged, arms spread wide across the top of his desk as if to say 'I'm here now'.

“I’ll see you in detention.”

Scott clapped a sympathetic hand on Isaac’s shoulder as he slouched down in his seat.

 

* * *

 

“There’s my favourite child.”

Melissa McCall opened her arms wide as Scott shook the grease-stained paper bag at her from all the way down the hall.

“Favourite child? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

His mom hummed, taking the bag and peering into it excitedly. Her grin widened. “Chili Cheese fries- okay what did you do?”

Scott tongued the straw of his own large coke and tried to look innocent. “Nothing! I figured if you felt like you needed a burger, you probably deserved the fries. I can take them back.” 

Melissa jerked the bag out of his reach, even if they were both aware of the fact that Scott could have snatched it back easily. “Don’t even think about it.”

Scott smiled around his straw.

Melissa fished the car keys out of her purse and tossed them over the desk of the nurse’s station. “So, any wild plans I should know about before I let you out of my sight? Beth’s my ride home tonight so you better be home by curfew.”

Scott thumped his elbows up on the divider, checking the time briefly. “Dr. Deaton asked me to close up tonight. I know Stiles wants to see the new Bond movie. Maybe I’ll invite Isaac and force them to be friends.”

His mom shook her head. “It’s nice to see the two of you getting along again. Worrisome because the two of you could find trouble at the bottom of a wet paper bag but-“

Melissa reached up to touch his cheek affectionately. “I know he means a lot to you. So I’m happy.”

Scott found himself leaning into the touch, breathing in the smell of family and the warmth of her easy fondness. Then she flicked him smartly on the nose.

“Mom!”

“Go get ready for work. Don’t forget to lock the door when you leave.”

Scott rubbed his nose with a frown. “I’m sorry. I can’t hear anything after getting hit in the face.”

Melissa balled up the paper bag and tossed it up, letting it bop down on Scott’s head. “Go. Work. Home at curfew or I’ll know.”

 

* * *

 

 

All it took to light anger that was constantly rolling in his stomach was for some asshole to nearly t-bone him at the intersection. 

Scott slammed the door with a low growl, watching the way his fingers dented into handle.

Stiles had mentioned the possibility of him base lining his new anger levels, of him eventually getting used to being irritated all the time.

He curled up against the bonnet of the car and fought the urge to hunt down the man who’d had the nerve to honk at him, as if Scott had been the one to run the red light.

He took a long deep breath, tried to find the scents of home and pack, and nearly gagged on the thick, sharp stench of cat urine.

His claws left thin scratches in the paint as Scott pushed away from the car.

The earth was damp on the corner of the house, the scent of another animal marking its territory prompted a low rumble to start up in Scott’s chest.

When his eyes caught sight of a curled tail disappearing into the bushes, red shuttered his vision and Scott took off.

The cat hissed at the chase, tiny heart beat fluttering with fear as Scott bent over to run on all fours, bounced off a sudden mound of hardened dirt and slammed into the cat.

It screeched, claws tearing into his arms and hands, sharp teeth gnawing at Scott’s wrist.

He coiled closer to the ground, tried to smother the sounds of panic and fight as his beta teeth crowded his mouth and from the next house over, Scott heard a sharp whistle.

“Bernstein!”  

The cat howled under his weight, tail lashing through the air.

“Bernstein- Larry something’s got him!”

A bright flash of light had Scott dropping the cat with a grimace, reaching up with a bloodied hand to shield his eyes. The cat took off out of the brushes, skidding into the open front door with another furious yowl.

Scott shook his head frantically, the urge to follow making his vision tunnel between human and red-washed.  The sound of heavy boots stomping across the yard triggered his own flight response and with a furious, terrified shout, Scott took off into the coming night.

 

* * *

 

_Scott gasped as the hand at his throat let up, the whistling sound of cool air being sucked into his lungs loud and quick in the clearing._

_Lydia looked around, flicking her hair over her shoulder in that imperious way of hers. “Well, I have to say that I expected a little more from the Alpha Pack.”_

_“A friend of yours?” The werewolf at his back asked, dragging Scott away from them. “Pathetic really. I can smell she’s not one of us.”_

_“Yeah, but I am.”_

_The world blurred as Scott was whirled around to face Isaac, slinking out of the trees at their backs. He had his hands in his front pockets, slouched over like they weren’t all in serious danger of dying._

_“I’m not,” Stiles said, stepping out with Allison at his side, her bow in her hand. “I figure a little diversity among us couldn’t hurt. After all, we only want to talk.”_

_The alpha laughed, his chest jumping hard against Scott’s back. “We don’t talk with humans.”_

_Lydia sniffed. “I think we have something that might change your mind.”_

_Boyd swore as the alpha under him nearly set him off his feet at the sight of Jackson and Peter hauling a body out into the clearing._

_The sick smell of decay and death was cloying._

_Scott shouted as claws dug hard into his shoulder, racking down across his chest. “You think a little wolfsbane scares the likes of me?”_

_Lydia picked a piece of invisible lint off her red jacket, barely acknowledging the alpha’s words. “Do you honestly think we’d come with only wolfsbane?”_

_Stiles had circled the clearing as they talked, slipping up behind the limp body of the other alpha. His arms were bare, pale in the moonlight but it wasn’t until Stiles dragged his fingertips up along his arms did he see the webbing darkness in his veins._

_It took him a moment to realize that what he’d thought was dirt from the trip through the woods, was actually mountain ash dusted across Stiles’ hands._

_The alpha writhed against their hold, screaming at the sky as the wolfsbane poisoning followed the path of Stiles fingers, quick and hungry._

_“If that doesn’t make you tuck your tails and run, we’ve also got hunters on the way, courtesy of Allison over there.”_

_Allison pulled the bowstring taunt in response. Stiles finger walked over the top of the Alpha’s shoulder._

_“Who have been told in a shocking turn of events to not shoot any of the red shirts in the woods tonight.”_

_A soft whine startled them all. The Alpha pinned beneath the combined strength of Erica and Boyd scrabbled against the dirt. “What do they want?”_

_“No.” Scott groaned as the slashes across his ribs were pulled open again, the healing slow. “We will not yield.”_

_“All we want is for you to leave,” Stiles said. “Look around, man. We all kind of hate each other on a good day but we’re here to get our people back.”_

_“And if we don’t?” The lone female alpha asked, her voice wet and weak. Scott looked over to see that Derek still had his fist buried inside her belly._

_“I’ve got an arrow for each of you.” Allison replied, her arm steady._

_“Personally made by my hand,” Lydia added, as if the Alpha Pack would know just what that meant._

_The blood loss made his stomach churn as Scott sagged against the Alpha’s hold. He pawed weakly at the hand back at his throat. “Stop.”_

_“What if I kill this one first? It’s not an advantage if we both have something the other wants.”_

_Stiles’ expression darkened. “You won’t get out until I let you out. You kill him and I’ll personally hold your hand until the poison reaches your heart and the light leaves your eyes. I’ll make you watch the rest of your pack die first and what’s left of your power then?”_

_There was a heavy silence in the clearing, an anticipating pause. Scott could feel the thud-thud-thud of the Alpha’s heart, could hear it too loud in his head as Stiles clenched his hands and moved to put his open palm over the shivering alpha’s heart._

_“Stiles.”_

_Then, from behind his head, the alpha let out a slow exhale of surrender and released him._

 

* * *

 

“Did you even try calling his house- how was I supposed to know Derek had put you on Scott-duty?” There was an ominous thump from inside the house as Stiles cursed and limped down the stairs. 

“I had detention- I thought he’d wait for me,” Isaac said, his voice small compared to Stiles’. Scott shuffled on the roof, digging his boots into the grooves of the shingles.

“He said he had stuff to do for his mom- oh my God, did any of you ever try to sniff him out? Are you a werewolf or not?”

“I’m covering his shift right now,” Isaac said. “Deaton’s going to close up early so that we can all look for him if you’d hurry up and get here.”

The front door slammed as Stiles jogged down towards the Jeep, one arm shoved into his hoodie. He was leaving, the thought enough to make Scott bury his face in his arms and whine softly.

Stiles turned around and froze. “Seriously?”

The anxious beat of his heart slowed as he walked back towards the house, shoving the hoodie over his head.

“Uh, buddy? You wanna come down? On the ground? Before the neighbors see you?”

Scott didn’t so much as stir.

“No? Oh my God, Scott. You suck so hard right now.”

Stiles ducked back into the house, climbing the stairs two at a time as he hit five on his phone. “Isaac? I found him. He’s sulking on my roof like a lumpy, vaguely ominous gargoyle.”

“Do you need one of us to come by?” Isaac asked, his voice tinny even with Scott’s enhanced hearing. “Derek could probably call him down.”

“Naw,” Stiles poked his head out the window, glancing from Scott’s perch on the roof to the ground below. “He’s not angry-looking. I got this. Later.”

Scott blinked, the simmering feeling of unrest bleeding away from his sight as Stiles shoved the phone in his pocket and began pushing down on the window sill. “What are you doing?”

“Testing my window for structural stability- what do you think I’m doing? I’m coming up.”

Scott scrambled further down the slope of the roof, suddenly alarmed. “What- no. Get back. Are you crazy? You’re going to fall and die.”

“Not if you get off your super-powered ass and help me,” Stiles said, crouched awkwardly in the open window. “If I fall I swear I’ll erase your entire C&C profile, don’t think I won’t.”

Scott rolled his eyes and reached out a hand to yank on the bunched up fabric of Stiles’ hoodie as he wobbled his way out onto the shingles.

“Delicately! Help me delicately.”

Scott didn’t let go as Stiles flailed his arms back and planted his sneakers flat down against the rough rooftop, using his height to keep from sliding down the slope.

“Hey, you can let go now- I’m good.”

Scott rubbed the thick cotton between his fingers. Over the years, he’d gotten used to leaving his fair share of clothes over at the Stilinski house- between lacrosse practices and sleepovers and all-night gaming marathons, most of the time, Scott couldn’t remember who originally owned half of the stuff in his closet.

This one was different.

“That’s my hoodie.”

Stiles looked down at his chest, as if he hadn’t known he was even wearing it. “Yeah, you shoved it over my head after the first time you tried to kill me in the locker room. You want it back now or something?”

Scott frowned. “No, I mean that’s the hoodie I was wearing when Peter bit me.”

“And suddenly your kind gesture has taken on a slightly sinister undertone.”

Scott let go of the sweater quickly, the sick burny feeling of shame creeping back into his gut. “How’d you find me?”

Stiles sighed. “First of all, you’re sitting on top of my house. I’d probably be able to hear your sad-face from across town, while comatose- subtle, you are not.”

He shrugged after a brief pause. “Also Isaac called up a search party after you ditched his Werewolf Daycare Plan. I was heading for the Jeep when I heard your sad face noise.”

Scott groaned. He’d completely forgotten about Isaac- as if this whole night had been embarrassing enough.

“So,” Stiles said leadingly, “besides the kickass view of the sky and the frightening view of the cold, hard ground below us reminding me that height isn’t my greatest friend- why in the hell are you chilling out on my roof when there’s taco bites in my freezer?”

 “Don’t even joke about eating right now, man.”

Stiles paused to stare at him. “Please don’t tell me that means what I think it means.”

Scott scrubbed at his face hard, pushing his palms against his eyelids until it hurt. Stiles’ heart rate jumped at the growing silence.

“Scott?”

“I tried to eat Mrs. Withers’ cat.”

Stiles melted back against the roof with a breath of relief. “Bernstein? You’d be doing the town a favor- that thing is a menace.”

“ _Stiles_.”

“What? You didn’t actually eat him, did you?” Stiles asked, nudging Scott in the thigh with his elbow.

“No!”

 “So why the long face, dude? You wanted to eat the evil kitty and you didn’t- I’d say that’s a win.”

Scott pulled his legs up, wrapping his arms around his knees sadly. “I’ve never wanted to eat someone’s pet before. I work at a _veterinary clinic_ \- how can Deaton ever trust me to feed the cats again?”

“Simple- what made you stop?”

Scott dropped his forehead down to rest against his arms. “I heard her calling his name. The lights in my face. I had to get out of there and before I knew it, I was here.”

Stiles gingerly rolled onto his side, propping his head up with his hand. “I’d say I’m flattered but that totally could have been your wolf side deciding it wanted a bigger meal.”

Scott huffed. “I just wanted to feel like myself again.”

Stiles reached out, wrapping his hand around Scott’s ankle, the grip warm and reassuring. “Then I’m glad you came here.”

Scott slipped a hand down to push his fingers through the poof of hair Stiles liked to style high every morning. He sighed, shoulders relaxing despite the hum of anxiety buzzing between his ears. “I think Derek thinks I’m going to hurt someone.”

Stiles grunted. “Derek also told you that a snake can’t be poisoned by it’s own venom and thought giving _superpowers_ to four kids chock-full of hormones and self-esteem issues was a good idea. He should really leave the critical thinking to someone else.”

Scott tipped himself closer, curling his chest over the top of Stiles’ head. “Full moon’s coming soon.”

“But it isn’t tonight,” he replied curtly, sitting up with a groan. “I seriously do have taco bites inside if you want to stay over. I’ve got some pants that might still fit your massive muscle ass.”

Scott let out a long breath, suddenly and secretly pleased at the thought of spending the night in a place that wasn’t marked as someone else’s. “Yeah, sure. I’m only staying for the taco bites.”

Stiles whacked him in the chest as he started to shuffle down the slope of the roof. “Liar.”

 

* * *

 

 

_The day Mrs. Stilinski died, Scott’s mom picked him up from school herself. She looked tired and small as she hugged him tight and waited until they were in the car to explain what had happened._

_Scott kept his head turned towards the window as he cried, scrubbing at his eyes when Melissa pulled over to the shoulder of the road, unbuckled his seatbelt and pulled him into her arms._

_Scott hadn’t known Mrs. Stilinski before she was sick, just that she liked to make nutella pancakes even if she couldn’t eat them, hugged him goodnight whenever there was a sleepover and sometimes she forgot who she was._

_Stiles had stayed with them for a whole week when the Sheriff came home to find his wife drinking herself stupid on the roof of his house, scratches all up her arms and legs. Melissa had made them blueberry waffles that first morning, and kissed Stiles’ forehead when he started to cry._

_Scott had know that Mrs. Stilinski hadn’t been getting out of bed much lately. She didn’t say hello when Stiles peeked in on her before they snuck their afternoon snacks into his bedroom. The Sheriff had tried to make their nutella pancakes that weekend and set off the smoke detector but Mrs. Stilinski didn’t move._

_Scott wished he’d had the nerve to give her one last hug before she’d died._

_“I’m sorry, I’m trying to make it stop,” he said, wheezing loudly against her shoulder. It wasn’t like she was his mom. He hugged Melissa tighter at the thought._

_She rubbed his back soothingly, her voice thick with tears. “Scott, it’s okay to be sad. We lost her too.”_

 

* * *

 

 

Scott awoke to the familiar rumble of the Jeep’s engine, shoulder blades scratched raw from the string-thin roots and moss behind him. 

Sunlight blinked out at him through a canopy of leaves as he licked his lips and tasted blood, flaked on and tacky.

Scott scrambled to his feet just as the Jeep screeched to a halt. “Scott!”

“Stiles, get back,” Derek snapped, reaching out and yanking on the back of his sports jacket. “I can smell blood.”

Scott stumbled out of the woods, skin pebbled as the wind made him aware of just how naked he was.

Derek’s expression was tight-mouthed and grim as Scott crossed his arms and tried not to breathe in the heavy, metallic scent of blood. “What happened?”

Stiles shrugged out of his jacket, yanking it from Derek’s hand as he stepped forward to wrap it around Scott’s shoulders. His hands were gentle, cheeks pale as said, “I don’t know, Scott- you’ve been missing for three days.”

 -tbc-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to revisit the time after Stiles' mom passed away so if you know what she was sick with? Damn you are good. 
> 
> Please let me know if you spot any odd words or mistakes- I only have myself to edit this thing and sometimes I miss things. 
> 
> I haven't named any of the Alpha Pack beyond what we originally learned of their characters because I wanted to keep them as vague as possible. I don't know why- I'm just weird like that.
> 
> What happened to Scott and why he's so out of control should start to be answered in the next part but finding him an anchor as well as his relationship with Stiles will still be slow going. I'm aiming for six parts but I might end up turning this into a series. 
> 
> Thank you always for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a platonic soulmates story between Scott and Stiles that quickly morphed into just a soulmate story. Rachael wrote the most lovely drabble of this pairing which prompted me to actually get this down inside of writing it in my head so this is really all her fault. She enables my Scott/Stiles shipping all the time.
> 
> Also, Peter comes off as a major dickhead here, when he talks about Allison. I want to be clear that Allison isn't being fickle or flighty here. Her mother (and to an extent her aunt and grandfather) were all killed doing what they saw as their duty as werewolf hunters. She's come to the completely valid conclusion that she can't be with Scott anymore and Scott- while heartbroken about it- doesn't blame her. Peter just hates the Argent family and will do anything to undermine their standing with other people. 
> 
> Finally, the Alpha Pack is mentioned here a few times and what happened with them will come out eventually.


End file.
